


(Judas Priest's 'Breaking the Law' starts playing)

by Blanketempress



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, I have no idea where this is going but it's going to be long I GUESS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 16:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19795045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blanketempress/pseuds/Blanketempress
Summary: Basil is a cocky, lying piece of shit as Nightmare but just you wait til he gets back to his civilliansona_!!!!! (edit) This work is discontinuated since I'm working on a better, improved version, this time with a plot. !!!!!I'm keeping these here as archive because I don't really like deleting things, I will link the new version when it's ready





	1. Villainous tips for baby superheroes

Tonight’s hunt was _kind of_ successful. The target of the night was a young vigilante with frost powers who pissed you off by repeatedly not using said powers at their full potential. You didn’t even have to beat them up, they sat down and listened to your lecture when you started scolding them, furiously taking down some notes. They did ask a couple times if you really weren’t going to fight them so you kicked them in the jaw and they ran away.

You shake your head. Proper mentorship, that’s what heroes in this town lack. Most of them are just regular people, who never threw a punch for real before they lucked out on the Hero Drug. The ones who knew how to fight, the ones who already had to learn how to fight in their previous normal lives, these people don’t waste time trying to right the wrongs of this city of crime, they were mostly already on the wrong side of the law.

And all these lucky idiots end up with powers they don’t understand the extend of, don’t understand the potential of. What a waste. But with a decent threat, with a decent challenge, they might start thinking, start wondering how they could better their performances. You’re more than happy to give them that kick and force them to surpass themselves.

They need training, they need to be ready when bigger threats arrive. They need to be united, also. A couple of them formed alliances, but it’s not enough. You’ll have to find ways to force them to learn team work.

Your steps bring you into dark alleys and empty buildings. You’re done with tonight’s plans too early. Boredom settles.

It’s more than easy to slip through the streets and distract people’s attention. You’re bored and it’s late. So you decide to do something slightly stupid. You cross the road, making cars slow down, making the drivers see a regular passerby. You reach the 24/7 minimarket.

The lone employee notices you and forgets about you instantly. You ease his fear, cover yourself in smoke. Inactivity is dangerous, you need something to keep your mind sharp and to be able to focus. So you get out with a couple energy drinks, candies and a donut.

And that’s when Herald decides to land right in front of you.

“ _Nightmare_ ”

Your annoyed groan sounds like a growl.

He looks scared already. Remembering your last fight, probably. You tilt your head, take a step forward. He moves back.

“Tss… You’re not worth more than all these wannabe heroes out there. Herald.” He wants to run, but he wants to fight you, to prove himself.

He charges, you dodge and grab him by the collar of his uniform, picking him up. He doesn’t weigh anything when you try to toss him around, hovering over the ground. He does however put his weight into it when he tries to kick you, that’s an improvement. His moves are still off, still lack balance.

“Could you not make such a scene? We’re in public right now. I’m not causing any troubles so why such a fervor? I can show you the bill for this stuff if you think I stole it, little Ranger.”

He doesn’t answer but you can read his thoughts clear as day. He’s too focused on his next moves, talking to himself in his head and remembering the training you gave him as Basil, as former Sidestep.

You parry, you punch back. Not hard enough to cause any damage, just hard enough that he knows you could hurt him, but you’re playing with him. He hates it. Hates to be the baby of the team, hates that he can’t beat you, hates that you don’t even see him like a worthy opponent. He takes a few steps back, trying to assess the situation, trying to find a new solution, unaware that you’ll know everything he wants to try before he himself decides what his next move will be.

It’s unfair. That’s life.

“Come on, kid be reasonable. You can’t hurt me. Not heavy enough to make me lose balance, not armed to pierce my armor. I could end it right here and now, before any reinforcement can come rescue you.”

You break your fighting stance, he stiffens.

“Can we talk?”

He’s wondering if this is a trap, and how the trap is going to spring. He thinks that he knows you too well already. You bite a comment on how his mommy probably told him not to talk to strangers. Eventually he squares up and raises his chin.

“Alright. Talk, then.”

There’s still fear at the back of his mind, he’s doing a really good job at hiding it however. A serious but still cocky attitude that looks strange on him, is he channeling Ortega?

“Did you ever worked with vigilantes?”

He takes a moment to think, of what he can and can’t tell. “I used to, yes.”

“But not since you joined the Rangers, right? Insurance reasons or whatever I’m guessing. Administrative paperwork. Well forget about that. If rules are stupid or can be ignored then ignore them. Break them.”

He frowns but doesn’t interrupt you. “What’s your point?” He’s connecting dots slowly. Remembering how every single hero you met made it out alive, without any serious wounds. Remembering the speeches you gave to the media. “You said… That something is coming. What is it?”

He still thinks that you’re a lunatic, that you have to be stopped before someone actually gets hurt, before you go too far or actually snap. He wants to make you talk, wants to try to maybe convince you to stop whatever your current crusade is.

You tilt your head and smile, knowing it won’t show, knowing the device distorting your voice will erase it. Low voice, half a growl, sounding like many people are talking at once. “Soon, very soon, you will have to make a choice. Every single one of you heroes in this town. Even some villain. More of them than they believe. You will have to choose whether you stand with the law, or with justice. And for those of you who chose justice, you will have to fight. Harder than you ever did.”

This confirms his idea. Lunatic. But there’s something sprouting at the back of his mind, that’s a good start. “Why don’t you talk clearly for once. Who are we going to fight?”

“Monsters. Things you let grow undisturbed for too long. It’s time for a cleansing.”

An annoyed huff “You don’t make sense.”

You laugh and give him a shrug. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you right away. So do me a favor, do some research. Find out how many things are hiding underground, how many things you can’t access. See how long it takes for someone in a suit to come tell you to mind your own business, that you don’t have clearance for big secrets. Question things. Question the law, question your own morals. Find your own balance and train harder than ever.” You're getting good at monologues and omnious statements, you have to admit.

Daniel is still trying to put together all the pieces he knows he already has.

“Were you a hero?”

The question sounds so innocent, he looks so baffled, you can’t help but laugh. It turns into a hiss, a creaking sound echoed by too many voices.

“Do I look like one?”

He thinks you were. Thinks that something might have happened. Thinks of… Well, _you_. Of Sidestep. Of how you told him that yeah, sometimes shit happens and people break. And you feel his determination grow stronger, how he vows to get answers, no matter what the cost. It gives you a headache.

“Alright, go bother some other evil-doers now, kid. We’ll meet again don’t you worry about that. And I hope you’ll be ready by then, I won’t go easy on you if you decide to stand in my way.”

You toss him a cherry flavored energy drink that he catches with a rightfully dumbfounded look on his face, and you take your leave.


	2. Falling for you (all over again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's absolutely not romantic I just found that title hilarious  
> Marshal Steel vs Nightmare  
> I know Steel can't climb up stairs but I really don't care, it's more dramatic like that

Explosives are a lot more fun than you expected. There’s something fascinating about buildings crumbling down, about the way people start to either panic or gather around to watch.

It’s all careful calculations and planning. Which part can crumble without bringing another building down with it. Which pillar has to be destroyed. Thankfully banks’ storage spaces are usually built on their own, without any habitation on the upper floors. With big walls separating them from other buildings.

You’re almost cheerful as you place your charges and set up a timer. You crack your knuckles and bring your nanovores to life, to eat through the heavy sealed door where your target awaits. Blueprints for black tech, that will either interest the good doctor or sell for a fair price. The alarms are screaming while you step inside the storage room, looking at all the little boxes full of secret wonders. Security comes fast, but you’re _Nightmare_ , not a simple robber. With just a wave of your hand, and a little telepathic push, you make them run out of the building, screaming in terror.

Fear is useful. People saw you on TV, saw the horror you inspired, even if they did not understand fully why everyone seemed so panicked. They know you by now, they know how everyone runs from you and it makes it so much easier to press their flight instinct. They are already aware that you are scary, it doesn’t take much.

You always make sure that everyone leaves. No casualties, no civilians wounded.

Back to the boxes. You find the numbers that interest you and make the papers vanish into a small suitcase. You visit another couple boxes to satisfy your curiosity, because you noticed interesting names in the bank’s files. Because you can.

There are now sirens outside, and the bright lights of the LDPD. Time to wrap up tonight’s break-in. You turn around, suitcase in hand, and that’s when Marshal Steel’s fist connects with your jaw.

Crap.

How did you not notice. You curse yourself and get in a fighting position but he already throws another punch that sends you back into the vault. There’s a red light in your suit indicating that one more of these to your helmet and it will actually suffer. You step back and manage to dodge the next one, but that’s all you can do now. Dodge and dodge and dodge. Your armor can handle a few hits, it’s even bulletproof. But even the best armor has weak points. You should know, you’ve studied his. You’re not ready for this fight however, not enough preparation, not enough backup plans.

So you do the wise thing and dodge, acting as if you really have no plan against him, as if you don’t know how to land a few destructive blows. You back off step by step, getting closer to the fire escape door while trying to make it look like you’re just losing ground to him.

“Marshal, I’m honored that you finally came to meet me in person.” Of course he doesn’t answer. If someone is good at ignoring villains’ banters it’s him. “Where are your little friends in blue today? Still recovering from the last time I made them dance?”

It’s probably the villain persona but only getting an annoyed groan instead of a proper answer is frustrating. Ortega loves to indulge and the two of you go back and forth, offering each physical blow with some sharp words. Argent pretends that she does not like talkers but she still delights in throwing a good comeback, or when she manages to catch you offguard. Even Herald’s genuine answers and wannabe heroic lines are entertaining.

To the others you’re a mystery to crack open on the battlefield. To Steel you’re appparently just an annoying mystery to be thrown in jail and understood later.

“If you want answers, my dear Marshal, you should ask questions.” You’re so so close to the door, ready to make a run for it but strangely he stops attacking. He is still in a fighting stance, mechanical armor hiding his intent.

He’s staring, probably trying to find a way to get past your guard and make his blows count. Is he tiering? You open your arms, taunting.

“Are you giving up, Marshal? I’m just getting started, didn’t even break a sweat, there.”

By habit you start moving, circling, judging each other’s stance and moves, analyzing details. His reach is much longer than yours, short range fight is at your disadvantage but you already knew that. Would a rocket launcher be good enough to damage his armor? You’d need help, and for him to be alone, else he’d just avoid the blow.

An inquisitive beep reminds that the timer you set will soon drop to ten. Not long enough to wrap your fight, not short enough to make you worried just yet. You’re so close to the door.

“You should get out of here, Marshal. I doubt that even you could shrug off two whole stories worth of concrete.”

You got too much into the fight and moved away from the door. Idiot. There’s still the main entrance, where the LDPD is waiting for you, or for Steel, but you’re certain that you can escape them once more. Steel has not moved an inch but you notice that he’s scanning the surroundings, wondering how serious you are.

You try to make a run for it, towards the main entrance but he manages to grab you and you feel your feet leaving the ground. You just have enough time to think of activating the nanovores to eat through his armor and he slams you into the concrete, fist colliding with your helmet again. This time it cracks. You stay perfectly still, wheezing in pain.

 _Crap_. And the timer is down to 5.

He’s on his guard but apparently hesitating to go for the final blow. You understand that very much, it’s when the enemy _looks_ defeated that they’re the most dangerous. You try to be discreet until the last second. You focus on making the nanovores eat the concrete under you.

“Brace yourself, Marshal” You manage to cough up.

The floor cracks right before the bombs set off. You fall down to the basement. The thick layer of concrete bends beneath the blast of the explosion and the weight of the building collapsing, but the ceiling won’t fall on your head just yet.

You make your escape through the fire exit, going up some stairs to a back alley. A projectile hits you right in the back while you contemplate whether you should go out and greet the LDPD or try to go up and vanish. Crap. Kevlar net. It’s not enough to hold you back more than a few seconds, but it’s enough to let Steel escape the wreck and approach dangerously close again. Up it is. You use your claws as climbing picks, digging them into the concrete until you can reach the metal ladders.

There’s another blow, a good part of your armor is now cracked, broken by Steel or by the explosion, you can’t tell. The HUD warns you of so many things at once that you can’t focus on any of them. You disconnect the warnings, you’ve been relying on it too much anyway. You know too well that everything is damaged, no need for it to tell you about it.

Your limbs are too heavy but you still force yourself to climb up. There’s a slight smile on your lips as you hear Steel follow, remembering how he used to bitch about stairs. Focus.

It’s not particularly high, four stories at most, but this way you will have access to more escape routes. There’s a helicopter circling around the area, you take a moment to reach for the mind of the people inside. News choppers. Good. You would have trouble manipulating them from this distance while also running from the Marshall.

You manage to reach the top of the building, taking just a second to catch your breath. Right would get you stuck with the LDPD. It would not too hard to bypass them but they started wearing gas mask and you need to have them keep thinking that you use gas instead of your powers. It’s not worth it yet to face them. Left is probably safer. Right in front is another building, a few stories taller.

You run to your left, make it right next to the edge of the roof. There’s the too familiar sound of a short range missile. You dodge, throwing yourself to the ground. How many of those can he fit in that damned armor of his. You’re running low on stamina, body aching and almost out of options. Four stories high. You freeze when you get right on the edge of it. Too high. Nightmare would survive, his armor is made to resist much worse. Basil would never take the leap.

You turn back to Steel, holding up your hands, making sure that you’re still dangerously close to the edge.

“So, Marshal. Now that we have some time to kill, how about we settle this grudge you seem to have against me? Why are you so hellbent on trying to arrest me? There are others, tougher challengers out there.”

He’s holding his ground, a bit too close to you.

“You’re unnerving.” The answer is sharp, you have no trouble picturing the look on his fave despite the helmet. “You’re not a regular fledgeling villain. What _is_ your goal? All of your targets are random, you don’t seem to have ties to anyone underground.”

You shrug “Well I’ve been chatting a bit with the media, you know. Maybe if you paid more attention you’d find answers.”

He saw you hesitate, he knows that you’re trapped up here. Still ready to fight, but he does seem eager to chat. He takes a step forward. Up in the sky the camera is probably not missing a single bit of the confrontation. You wonder briefly if it’s live.

“Who are you?”

This time you laugh “Thought I’d tell you this easily, Marshal? Buy me dinner first, then we’ll get intimate.”

A groan. Another step forward. You’re too aware of the emptiness beneath your feet.

So he knows that you are not a beginner. And he’s probably going through all his past fights, all the heroes and villains he’d heard of to try to find a match. If only he wasn’t wearing these damn dampeners you’d have fun pulling some of these people to the front scene and make his suspicions stronger.

“Surrender, Nightmare.”

You start to lose your balance a bit but don’t take a step backwards, survival instinct screaming too loudly that even your armor isn’t strong enough to handle that fall.

“Why should I? It’d make your life too easy, Marshal.”

You take the step. There’s a moment where time freezes while you start falling backwards, where your brain tells you that you can still pull yourself forwards, to safety, then you really lose balance.

The fall is cut short when Steel leaps forwards and catches your arm, not willing to let you go that easily. You don’t think, you press your left hand to the broken bits of your armor.

“Sorry Marshal, you won’t see me in jail any time soon. Government property doesn’t have this luxury.”

The armor cracks, the glove slips out of his grasp.

Four stories is not that high. You still have more than enough time to freak out and relive another fall, in another life. This time, however, you brace yourself. This time you know you’ll get back up and walk away. There’s a crash. There’s a terrible sound, you wonder if you’re the only one hearing it.

The armor is still holding up. The feeling you get is very close to being pressed between a wall and the front of a truck. You still get back up. There are some policemen, holding their fires, but they already reek of fear. You brush against their minds, just enough to make them hold their fire a little longer. Just what you need to jump through your exit, through a manhole and into the sewers.

You stumble on your legs, towards your hideout, trying to ignore the pain and the fear that settled in your guts. Shutting down the voice that tells you that you died again, that you’re only dreaming that you’re walking. Trying to ignore the voice telling you that _he saw_. He saw your arm. Saw your markings.

You escaped. You’re safe. But for the first time even Nightmare hesitates. You need to hide, to go under the radar for a while. You can’t achieve your goals if they catch you.

Your head is throbbing, when you fall on the couch in your lair you don’t even change out of your armor, you allow yourself to finally stop thinking and pass out, right then and there.

Familiar dreams welcome you. Old memories now tainted with brand new colors, feeling very recent. Reminding you that you can’t run forever.


	3. Algor's return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tortured myself so much with this one then I was like fuck it I don't have to put too many details if I don't want to so here it is

"Nightmare! Nightmare, wait up!"

You turn around just a second, just enough to see the young hero running up to you, and to decide that fighting isn't worth it. Sending a kid to ER because they would try to get back up even with broken bones isn't worth it.

So you groan and start running, your suit making your moves much faster than theirs. You jump over a car, vanish into a back alley, merely taking the time to figure which escape route is the best. And you get hit.

It's not even a violent hit, merely like getting a snowball on the back.

Ha. Algor.

You turn around, this time you know that standing your ground and telling them to fuck off can, and will work. They run up to you, sliding on the side, almost falling off their own trail of ice.

"Oh, there you are..." There's something akin to relief on their face, and then it vanishes, all blood leaves their face when they realize that they are trying to corner an actual villain, who did beat up most of the town's heroes by now. So they hold up their hands and take a step back "I uh... Just want to talk!"

It's ridiculously easy to read what's in their mind, they are not expecting you to be able to do that. They really want to talk. There's something akin to admiration, fear, hope. That's weird.

"Make it short."

Their brain starts running at full speed as they try to find the best way to put their thoughts into words. "Could you coach me, please?"

You fear that your neuronal connections misfired, or maybe it's your ears that got fucked up in a past fight. Then your brain goes through the question again, and the results are positive. They did say just what you heard.

"What the hell are you talking about." is the only thing that crosses your lips, and you're thankful for the voice distorter that hides the fact that the silences between very couple words are due to disbelief and not meant to be threatening.

"You gave me tips last time, and I applied them, I think I'm getting better. Ranged fighting and all, like you said...."

To their defense you do notice something in their stance, the way they hold up their fists, some hints that they are indeed learning a martial art. You are not certain which one just yet, there's too much work left to do on their part, but it's a start.

"I could break you in half, you know that?" You try to sound annoyed but you're too baffled to manage to be threatening. The kid doesn't seem too bothered

"Look, I don't especially want to fight with the good guys, alright? It's just that I won't be thrown in jail when I freeze half a street, if I'm with the heroes. But I could join you! Villains can get sidekicks too, right? I could help you out!"

It's a very specific type of migraine that's settling in your brain. You take a step forward, they flinch and their breath gets stuck for a second too long but they stand their ground. "You don't know the first thing about me or my goals. Use your brain instead of sprouting nonsenses like that."

"I researched you!" You can feel the wave of excitement crashing on your shields. "I know that you give the same kind of speeches to the media and the heroes you beat. How there is something coming, a big battle, where heroes and villains will have to fight no matter which side they are on. And the way you fight is so cool, I watched tons of videos, you adapt to all your enemies it looks like you're a different fighter each time, it's sick!"

If you weren't wearing a mask you would be rubbing your face. There's not much of Nightmare's attitude left in yours as you try to figure out how to get rid of this idiot. "You wouldn't be able to fight like that even if I taught you. It takes years of practice. Decades."

"Well, I ought to start somewhere, right?"

The way the line is delivered, with a cocky smile and a too proud tone, it makes you feel old. In the blink of an eye you rush forward, throwing a punch that startles them enough to send them stumbling backward and fall on their ass, and this despite the fact that you stopped your blow half an inch from their face.

"I see that you really do need to get started." you comment.

One student is enough of a bother, and at least Herald has some experience. Somehow you still toy with the idea. That kid is going to get killed. You witnessed it too many times, fledgeling heroes and villains, normal people who were thrown out of the ordinary, who fell before they could realize how dangerous this new world they just entered is. Whose deaths didn't even made it into the newspapers.

"I learn fast... And I'm good with computers, I know how to code and hack things, I could research heroes for you, find the data available on them and everything... Or I could make codes breakers and viruses if you need them."

You snort "Why on earth would I take an intern when I can hire the best that this city has to offer."

"Because they don't care about your plans. I do."

Brutal honesty. Brown eyes shooting too open feelings and thoughts right at you. Honest. You brush their mind, find without digging some much more complex emotions, that they probably don't even know themselves how to sort out. Ambition. Anger. Hurt. Longing. Excitement. A strange cocktail that threatens to blow up should someone ignite it. Maybe that's why they are so bad at controlling their powers, with all these conflicting currents pressuring them in too many different directions.

"You should go home. Put the mask down while you still can, before you piss off someone less nice than me."

Their jaw clench, they frown slightly, but you still didn't manage to dent their determination. They will keep fighting and training, on their own if you don't want to help them out. They will become someone.

You pull your mental shields back up to try to hide from it. It's not your fault they are so dense. It's not your fault they still want to get themselves killed this badly. You turn around first, sinking back in the shadows.

It's their own damn business, not yours.

  
  
  


You're not certain how this happened.

Maybe you shouldn't have follow them after catching a glimpse of their ill-fitted red and black costume. They think that not taking an icy theme is giving them an advantage.

It didn't matter that they bit more than they could chew. It shouldn't have mattered that the guys they bothered were professionals, with no patience for wannabe heroes. Algor obviously didn't know they would be five, and armed.

Maybe you shouldn't have looked into their thoughts after you got them out of harm's way. If only you kept yourself from prying, you could have pretended that the look on their face wasn't affecting you. The pinched lips, the frown. But you did feel the things going on in their mind, the self hatred so familiar, the self bashing reminding you too much of your own. Gritting their teeth while they thought of all they did wrong, all they should have done better. Hating their own helplessness.

They washed the blood off their face, it doesn't make them look any less miserable.

"So. You know how to hack things, right?" your question meets a wall of silence, they're too busy scolding themselves internally. "Why don't you get tech instead of trying to fight the old fashioned way. Hack a bank, get funds. You said you didn't mind going on the wrong side of the law, do it."

You get a shrug. Annoyance. Resentment. They didn't want to need saving, didn't want you to interfere.

You groan "You do know that you look like a scolded child right now. Get a grip, you'll get your ass kicked more than once."

They glare at you. Then annoyance leaves their brain to be replaced by a strange hollow feeling. They sigh and rub their nose. "I thought I could do something with these powers. That it'd change my life and all."

"Life changes if you die, that's for sure." You couldn't hold back that comment, they simply shrug, gaze a bit unfocused, thoughts that you feel are too old creeping back. You sigh. This is a terrible idea. "I need a codebreaker. I'm planning on infiltrating a company's headquarters and steal an item from them. Something precious, safely locked in a vault."

The frown is back "Just say you pity me and go" they snarl. They get back on their feet, anger turned mostly against themselves but now searching for a target to unwind on.

"You can keep wallowing in your self pity if you'd like but you sure won't get any better that way. There's no use crying over spilled milk, just make sure you won't drop the next glass."

They answer by a groan, far from their cocky, cheerful persona.

"You got a phone with you? Good, I'll give you a number to call if you want the job."

Reluctantly they get their phone and type in the number.

It shouldn't be any of your business if they live or die, if they get stronger or if they get stepped on.

But now you realize you won't be able not to care.

  
  
  


One meeting turned into two. One collaboration into half a dozen.

It's been a few months now. You don't remember how it got to this but right now Algor is slouched on a chair, feet on a desk, a computer on their lap. In your lair. They got rid of their shoes at the door, helped themselves in the mini fridge, like they just got back home.

You still don't unmask and it feels weird to be next to someone while in costume, to interact with them as Nightmare only. They stopped wondering what you might look like a long time ago, now the armor is really your only face in their mind.

You plan, being able to delegate some of your work to them does help a lot. You don't give them enough details for them to be fully efficient but you don't want to risk a leak. Everything worked smoothly until now, you didn't feel any second thoughts in their mind. But they are young and stupid, you never know what could slip were they to meet some friends or decide to go get drunk and talk too much.

Somehow the fact that you don't trust them fully doesn't bother them, it even makes them eager to work better, to prove themselves. You probably did one big mistake at some point but you honestly can't tell when it was.

You both get startled when your phone starts to ring, abandoned on a low table. They are closest, shoot it a glance out of habit. "It says 'Wei'." They announce, unphased. Like it's the most natural thing in the world, like you didn't hold your breath, like you don't feel your palms get itchy.

You grab the phone and storm out, frantically trying to open the clamps of your helmet. The ringing stops, you pass a door, lock it up, toss your helmet in a corner and press "call back" without thinking much. Can't afford a worried marshal.

"Hey. Sorry I'm still at work, didn't catch the phone in time."

"Still at work?" His voice has no business being so calming. You close your eyes and try to forget that you've spent more time in costume than in civilian clothes lately. "It's getting late, you should take a break."

"You're the one to talk." you tease. "I have a tricky surgery to make on a decades old computer. Museum worthy thing, I have no idea how it still runs with all the software updates it went through."

Lying comes so easy, you almost believe yourself. Almost believe that this is all normal.

You'll meet tomorrow. Go on a date. Like normal people do.

If there was a contest for people who manage to make their own life even more complicated with each of their life choices, you'd probably win an award.


	4. intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't have any english dictionnary on my computer so all the words appear with red waves under them and I'll proof read when I'm dead  
> Why do I keep writing second person POV you may ask  
> I don't fucking know but it sounds cool

"You made a blog."

There's a snicker for sole answer, and Algor tilts the screen toward you. It's got a good aesthetic, you have to admit. Dark, sober, just the right balance between edgy and kitsch. And it already has a huge number of followers apparently. You look closer, frowning as you read through the articles, trying to see if Algor somehow did not disclose important informations. Things you wish they didn't know. Things that you should wipe out of their brain.

You sigh. "That's stupid and dangerous."

"Come on, it's an opportunity!" They type in some commands and some lines of code. "I made a tracker and I made a virus for it. I know where everyone who views this blog comes from, and I can get access to their computers more than half of the time, just from their visit."

"And how would hacking my... 'Fans'' computers be an opportunity." You actually have a few ideas sprouting, but right now it's scolding time. They should have ask you before doing all that.

"You could send them messages! Through the blog, your ideas would get even more reach than by just using the media. And you could take control of so many computers, it would create a network that'd make hacking bigger targets easier and would make you harder to track down."

You probably don't even need to sigh again. "Alright then. I'd grant you an A+ for initiative. You get an F for not asking me for my opinion, though."

They just laugh and that laugh worries you a bit. Maybe you're too nice. Letting too many things slide. They're not scared a little bit of you, not impressed at all anymore, which can only mean complications. Somehow though you find yourself grinning.

"So... What's your great masterplan? I mean, I know you won't tell me the details, but what do you want to put on that blog? Boss."

"Watch your tone." When did you turn into an old man. You look over their shoulder, trying to think of the best uses of this new tool. You can't make anything too explicit, of course. "Make it clear that you're the one writing the articles. Not me."

You sit down and find your hand searching for the clamps of your mask. You stop yourself right before pressing for the opening. Algor is staring, thoughts quiet, just waiting to hear what you have to say. "Alright... I guess I can tell you a little more. There's nothing coming, not really. If I vanished right now, everything would probably keep happening the way it did before for a long while. For now all that I have done is prepare the terrain, setting up some dominoes."

There's a spark in Algor's thoughts, they don't say anything, not daring to interrupt in case it would annoy you enough that you'd stop talking altogether.

"Boosts will all be concerned by the things that I will expose soon. Bodies traffics, still live boosts who vanished into government owned labs. How many of them would stay loyal to the government when they find footages and proofs of the fate that might be waiting for them? Norms will probably find some things to get outraged by. Human experiments. Government ties with the underworld. If I play my cards right, public indignation and the anger of the people will be good cover for more determined anarchists and activists. There are more people who hate the system than not. If I give them the right push, if we get to show them that they're not alone, I could kickstart a revolt. And if I play right, play into their anger, I could turn it into a revolution."

That's crazy. Algor's thought. They're so very excited but feel a bit dizzy now, trying to figure out just how much you worked, how deep you dug the fondations of your masterplan. It makes you laugh.

"Alright..." their eyes are a bit too shiny "But how can you make sure that people will turn against the government? Like, other villains tried that out, people don't really want to bother to fight the system."

"Really? Didn't you notice changes in town already?" You have a gift that they don't, you feel the pulse of the city, you read its thoughts as if it was a real person. "There are riots. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a bit more organized, just a bit more violent. There are protests. Kind of small, not too brave just yet, but the Rangers and the LDPD fill in more and more forms to complain about civilians throwing stuff at them. And don't get me started with how most politicians have to go everywhere with better bodyguards than usual."

"Still, people throwing donuts at the police isn't the start of a revolution." The things you read in their mind tell you that despite their words, they're sold and on board.

"It's not. That's why it's not the only thing I rely on. And when the time comes I'll just have to spark a little flame for it all to ignite."

You do sound like villain now. It's kind of disheartening to see how much Algor likes it, how they still want to follow and still want to help out. What bothers you even more is how you don't seem to feel guilty. They were trying to be hero out there. Granted they were not too attached to the heroic part of duty, but maybe if they met with someone else, with an actual hero... You shake your head. No hero would ever want to help a beginner, they are all too busy running after big bads and big sponsors. That's why they were on their own in the first place.

They are scrolling through the blog now, they start writing an article, looking up to see if you're going to react, unable to read your mood under the mask. You have to admit, they're good. Cryptid messages to keep conspiracy theorists on edge, flawless grammar and a hint of humour.

You give them a pat on the shoulder. "You're the greatest minion I ever had, Algor."

"Hey."

"Sorry. Intern."

" _Hey_!"

Your laugh is a snicker, turned into something almost threatening by the voice distorter but by now they know you too well. They fake a hurt pout and go back to their article. And you go back to your own planning.


	5. This is chapter 6 or 7 bc tons of shit happened but I'm not writing it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So like SKIP SIX MONTHS LATER I GUESS!!  
> Major things that happened in six months just include Algor becoming a house cat  
> Next chapter will be made in third person because languages suck as a general rule so yeah unless I change my mind this is the last chapter in second person POV, say goodbye to Basil's thoughts!!  
> -  
> In this chapter you will find fighting Julia, striking a deal then upgrading Nightmare's gear  
> I'm renaming this fic "WAIT I JUST WANT TO TALK" bc so far every single character has said it except Steel but that's bc I can't write Chen's dialogues

Fighting Charge is always annoying. Brain static and strange tempo. You know her, you know the way she moves, so why is it so hard to adapt.She’s trying to keep up despite your speed enhancers, she doesn’t allow you to get away even when you leap out of her reach, at this rate she’s going to exhaust herself. Her gaze is sharp, eyes darting right and left as she thinks of her next strategy but never leaving you for more than a second.

“I’m not here to fight you.”

“Oho? Are you going to give up and surrender, then?”

She looks amused, you can’t help but groan. Without waiting for a more constructed answer from you she launches an attack, blast of lighting that misses you. But hits the fire alarm. Water starts dripping from the ceiling, soaking the both of you as you continue your fight.

So she still thinks that you use gas. Good. You tone down the ringing of the alarm, focusing on Julia. Charge.

She stopped chasing you now, staring right into the red eyes of Nightmare, the too many eyes, not quite placed where they should be.

“I heard a lot about you, Nightmare, since we last met.” she makes a move on the side, you start walking as a reflex, following her pattern, circling the room. “I have to admit, I’m intrigued.”

“Do I really have much to tell you, Charge. You are better at seeing through things than anyone in this city.”

One raised eyebrow, cocky smile. “Well, I’m flattered…”

In the past few months you became really good at giving monologues. Speaking in riddles and half truths and see what sticks, what people pick out. Maybe it’s time to be a bit clearer about your intents.

“Marshall Steel thinks that laws and rules are impossible to bend, that structure is all that makes this town still stand. There’s a villain threatening civilians, he crushes them, because that he can do without getting a slap on the hand. What about the ones who don’t wear tacky costumes and don’t blow up banks, the ones who are really pulling the strings? You try to do something about them, don’t you?”

Sharp gaze, careful breath, blank smile worn as a mask to hide what she’s really thinking. “We’re the Rangers, we don’t let criminals run free. I got the feeling that your point is a very interesting and juicy one, mind getting to that? I’m getting a bit cold.”

“I can give you information, and a potential entry to some underground networks. I need information in exchange.”

She cocks her head and shoots you a bright smile. “Snitching and trying to get me to snitch? That’s low.”

You open your arms as a shrug “Take it or leave it. I do not have any binding to anyone in this town.” A big fat lie. “My help could save you months of research.” Probably not a lie, but at that point you’re not certain yourself if you’re bragging or not.

“Can I get a freebie? Free month trial? Listen, you’re not the first villain trying to strike a deal with me, and I know how these things usually end, but I have to admit, I’m interested.”

The whole deal smells like danger and calculated risks, of course she has to be interested.

“Very well. Let’s truce for now, then.”

_

Back to your lair you drop the mask and drop in the sofa, burying your face in a pillow.

“Did you go for a swim in the sewers again? Wait no it doesn’t smell like death this time. Someone pushed you in the river?”

You groan and turn to Algor, comfortably installed on their chair in a position a physical therapist would disapprove of, sipping on a soda.

“What are you doing here at this hour? Don’t you have hobbies or friends?”

“You’re the one to talk. Hey, look who dropped by a secret secret bar to pick up a package from a mad scientist for you! Sleepy gas and fear gas in cans. I’m the best minion ever, I know, I know.”

Getting up is draining, but they did revive your curiosity.

Months pretending to be using gas means that your current enemies are usually equipped of gas mask. Nudging their fear while they are wearing these would raise suspicion, it was time you started using actual weapons like these. Much less efficient than a mental push but much less suspicious. It amazes you how easily you spent the past year pretending not to be a telepath at all, and how no one suspects a thing. A gun with sleeping darts would be nice but weapons can be taken away, devices can be countered, the more you keep your abilities secret, mysterious, the less there is a chance for anyone to fight them.

It takes you a moment to pick up that Algor started chatting while you were deep in thoughts. Something to do with trying to flirt with a girl at Joes and the girl being rude to them.

“She said I’ll end up dead in a ditch soon if I kept running my mouth. I’m still wounded.”

“She’s right.” you reply with a sigh.

You put the package on a table and make your way to your improvised locker room. Armor goes, skinsuit stays on until you get to take a shower. It’s thankfully still dry. Hoodie, pants too large, heavily worn-out snickers. Of course you could afford better clothing but at that point it’s half a disguise, half lack of care.

When you pass by Algor again you feel a peak of disappointment, boredom. You don’t really need to pry further. They had such a different view on the villain world and on heroes. From the look on their face the whole thing probably starts to feel just like an internship. With coffee breaks and more boring days than exciting ones.

“It’s a waiting game, Algor.” You say, turning back instead of making your leave as fast as possible as you intended. “I make a move, I wait for others to make theirs. I can’t always be attacking museums.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. See you on thursday for training?”

Are they aware just how much they look like a kicked puppy? Probably. Maybe you should find something for them to do other than stay at the base and argue with people online all day. 

“See you on thursday.”

Maybe they could help out with your next plan.


End file.
